Page 2 of Buried in Blood
I don’t want to die. I never have. All I’ve ever wanted was to stick up for myself, but that’s the one thing I could never do. It can put me in dangerous situations. Situations like the altar, but what choice do I have anymore?
* * *
I stare at the cafe wall and think about how hungry I am. I have timed outings by myself before I have to return. I only have an hour before Damien’s right-hand man, Reese, comes to pick me up.
Damien doesn’t like to show himself in public, unless it’s as a threat or in his trusted circle. He has to be that way, considering the entire world believes he isdead.
I tap my foot anxiously, waiting for the waitress to bring me my soup. I go to the same cafe every week. I like my routines. There’s rarely anyone else here, which is why it’s my favorite. I honestly hate people.
I open my phone and scroll through my pointless text messages. I read over a handful from Evelyn and Astra. I ignore them for their own good. They’re concerned formywell-being, but if I werethem…. I would be scared formyself.
Damien isn’t a patient man. He’s out for blood.
Evelyn and Astra are the closest things I have to genuine friends. They still aren’t really friends, though. They don’t try to help me. Even if they did, it would be pointless.
My chicken noodle soup arrives, and my stomach rumbles in response to the savory aroma. It reminds me of childhood.
Cooking with my mom and dad. It was the best. Curling up on the couch with them, watching movies on snow days. It was a blissful time.
Now… now they hate my guts.
I refused to marry some piece of shit rich kid, and they shut me out. I’ve been staying at an apartment in the city ever since. I stayed at Astra’s until she went MIA. Then I packed up and moved back out. It only took a week for Damien to find and capture me. That was something I never want to relive.
I take a spoonful of soup and let the warmth soothe my core. I exhale deeply, letting myself enjoy the peace before the storm returns.
The music plays softly throughout the cafe. “Devil’s Backbone” by The Civil Wars. One of my favorite songs.
I tap my foot to the tune. This song always gives me goosebumps. It hits something deep in my core that stirs me to life. It’s relatable to say the least.
My phone vibrates on the table, causing it to buzz to the side slightly. I glance down and see that “My Midas” has sent me a text.
I roll my eyes unapologetically. Fuck him.
Ten minutes remaining. Then your ass is mine.
-Midas
He is actually fucking insane. He refers to himself as “Midas”, in the third person. Like a fucking creep. Hopefully, it’s an act, because if it’s not… I don’t want to be here for the escalation.
I finish my soup and leave a tip on the table. I know the server here suspects I am in a bad situation, but she doesn’t say anything when I tip her well. However, I know if I ever don’t tip her, she will know I need help.
That’s the kind of people I do like.
One’s that let me fight my own battles. I need to learn how to say “no” sooner or later. I just hope it is sooner rather than later.
* * *
I walk into Damien’s house. He has “Diamond Eyes” by Deftones blaring on the speakers. It’s so loud, you cannot even hear yourself think. He’s in a mood. Fuck.
I throw my bag down on the table and walk into the bedroom.
He smiles at me wickedly.
“I’ve missed you, my queen.”
I walk over to him slowly. His eyes rake over my curvy figure, pausing at my breasts that spill over my sports bra.
“Missed you, too.” Lie. I would never miss him. I just value my life.
